Portland O

Open Mike
Wednesday, January 18
Back in Minneapolis, where I previously lived, there is a neighborhood with a food co-op, coffee shop, library, and bakery all close together. It was the hub of my social life. So if you are ever looking for me in Portland there's a good bet I'll be at 23rd and Thurman where all the same things can be found. Tonight I am at the Northwest Library checking out a poetry reading. I get there a few minutes early and almost turn around and leave as there is hardly anyone there. I am so glad I didn't!

I have a confession to make. I have a hard time listening to poetry, my mind wanders even more than usual and tonight I struggle as the first two poets read. But a love poem gets my attention as it is wonderfully graphic and steamy, the following one even has a few curse words and I worry briefly about a librarian coming in and closing us down.

There are two featured poets, Kim Stafford and Tim Gillespie and they take turns reading. This is Tag Team Poetry at its finest. One poem is a homage to a woman named Victoria who once taught a sewing class in this very room. Another is a love poem to a 2nd period English class. (They are both English teachers.) The settings range--like all good poetry, I suppose--from a 7/11 to Pakistan to a garage where a father teaches his sons how to change oil. Kim introduces the last poem by reflecting on the fact that we are in a library and that the most important writing is the stories, the secrets of the heart, that haven't been written yet. The poem ends: "Then we breathe our holy secrets one-by-one." Afterwards, they take out a guitar and harmonica and do a few songs. I look up and see the room is now full.

Then something utterly surprising happens, I realize I know Kim. He is one of my teachers! Ten years ago I went to a workshop of his in Minneapolis when he was a resident teacher at the Loft Literary Center. I remember him showing us how to take an ordinary piece of paper and, with cuts and folds, make a tiny notebook. I go up and ask him about this and he pulls a worn miniature notebook out of his jacket. He asks me what I am doing and I give him a card with the Portland Project web address. He looks at it and immediately asks for my phone number. I am momentarily confused. He says, "I love this project." I can't figure our how he knows about it and he attributes it to "the buzz." He tells me he is working with a group that is compiling stories about Portland. "We need your help." OK, well, here you go. Happy to oblige!